


El Iwa-Moge

by ellerean



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:44:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5512700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerean/pseuds/ellerean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rin Matsuoka, captain of the glorious Dreamscape, takes to the high seas to avenge the murder of his parents. But everything changes one dark night, when an infamous pirate takes claim to his ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [staunchly_anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staunchly_anonymous/gifts).



> I had _so_ much fun with this prompt. If not for the deadline, this thing would've gone on for ages.
> 
> Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy the adventures of these two ~~dorks~~ feared pirates.

The seas were too calm. The floor was steady beneath his wide stance as Rin poured the rum, the amber liquid smooth and contained. As he lifted the glass to his nose, he tried to appreciate the calm for as long as it would last—whether hours, or days—before the storm broke.

Rin didn’t often partake in drink, but this one was imported from the Caribbean. It smelled like a warm beach, like the burn of skin under the high sun. It smelled like the heat of the equator and the oiling of ships in the dock.

Rin took a sip, and it burned on the way down. He coughed and pounded on his chest.

He collapsed into his leather armchair. When he stretched his legs out, he kicked the bed on the opposite side of the room. He didn’t mind the limited space, not when he had a glorious ship as Dreamscape.

There were only two framed photos on the walls of his quarters: One, a map of the world, sorely outdated now, but it had belonged to his father. The other, his family. Rin stared at his younger self behind the glass, red hair wild and smile stretched across his face. His younger sister clutched his hand and their parents stood behind them, hands on their shoulders. The portrait was yellow with age, their formal attire as outdated as his map. Rin could still recall the itchy trousers and snug waistcoat, could smell the singe of the flashbulb as it momentarily blinded him.

When he closed his eyes, he felt the water beneath his ship. He imagined the life that dwelled beneath it, unexplored by human intruders. He sighed, pulled himself up from his chair, and went out on deck.

The sky was the color of gunmetal, the clouds blocking evidence of the setting sun. But on deck, his pirates were boisterous and proud as usual. They sang as they worked, and they joked with one another. When they noticed Rin’s arrival they threw up their hands in greeting, hailing their captain before returning to their duties. The calm before the storm—the moments when his crew worked vigorously, preparing what they could before the torrents threatened their lives.

“Good evening, Captain!”

Aiichiro waved as he approached, smiling wide, black tar smudged across his cheek.

Rin nodded in acknowledgement. “Any sign of the ship?”

There was a twitch of Aiichiro’s jaw, a strain to maintain the smile despite the forthcoming news. “Not yet, Captain. But Sousuke is working hard to find it!”

The fog limited visibility, but anyone looking over the sea could tell they were alone. And since they’d departed England, they hadn’t seen another ship. He’d insisted on a route seldom taken, one rumored to take ships under, and to send the most feared sailors turning for home. But Rin had been certain this was the path to lead them to his nemesis.

The Spanish conquistadors. The one that had killed his family.

Rin massaged his wrist, hidden within the oversized sleeve of his coat. The gold bracelet was a constant reminder, its fine strands braided like a rope, inset with small diamonds and rubies. It had been a gift from King Charles himself, and he hated the thing. Rin had plucked out one of the rubies when Dreamscape had been christened, tossing it into the ocean waves. The empty setting bit at his palm, like the sting of resentment. Of abandonment.

“Captain.”

Sousuke appeared off the quarterdeck, his sudden and apparent calm a welcomed change from Aiichiro’s chattering. He preferred to work alone, which was fine enough; now, he had a nautical chart tucked under his arm and nonchalantly twisted a compass in his hand.

A smile spread across Rin’s face. “Sousuke! Good news?”

He looked out over the empty expanse of the ocean. No land in sight, no other ships, no...

Rin narrowed his eyes. _“Sousuke?”_

“We lost the trail.”

“ _You_ lost the trail!” Rin cried. “Who the hell put _you_ in charge of navigation?!”

It was Sousuke’s turn to glare at him. “You did.”

Rin crossed his arms, looking out at his more competent sailors working the ship. _He had a damn compass_ , Rin thought, ignoring Sousuke's exasperated sigh. _What could be so hard..._

“Captain.”

Rin tried to ignore him. It had been helpful to steal his best friend away before taking to the seas. But it also meant there was no escaping him or his lectures, and Rin wasn’t in the mood to hear this same one yet again.

“We should stop looking.” Once, the phrase had been spoken carefully, the way one suggested ideas to an impatient child. Now, Sousuke only sounded tired.

Rin rubbed the bracelet, the spike of the empty setting gouging his thumb. When he turned back for the captain’s quarters, Sousuke didn’t follow.

He stood in the center of his small cabin, staring at the yellowed family photograph. As the years progressed, he saw more and more of his father in his own reflection. They had the same wide shoulders, and the same toothy grin. And any fool could see that he’d inherited his coloring from his mother—her flame-red hair had been neatly set for the photograph, but he vividly remembered the long ponytail she often wore, tied back with a thick ribbon.

“I will avenge you,” he muttered, glaring at the photograph. His eye slipped down to the chubby face of his sister. “I’ll kill them all.”

“Captain!” Aiichiro’s footsteps pounded as he ran across deck. “Captain Matsuoka!”

He hesitated. He could _hear_ the boy panting on the other side of the door, and knew he fidgeted impatiently for a reply. Rin grew more curious when he heard a second set of footsteps—Sousuke, coming for backup. Or confirmation. Or _something_ that would make Rin believe whatever wild idea Aiichiro had come up with now.

Rin cracked the door open, just enough to glare at the wide-eye wonder of Aiichiro’s stare. “What?”

“I-I... we...” he stuttered, then looked up at Sousuke. Passing the responsibility.

“There’s a ship,” Sousuke said, and Rin stood up straighter. “I believe it to be—”

“Pirates!” Aiichiro blurted.

Rin glanced back and forth between the two. Aiichiro, twisting his hands together; Sousuke, folding his arms across his chest.  _"Pirates."_ Aiichiro yelped and back up into Sousuke, who remained an impenetrable wall. Aiichiro rubbed the back of his head. Rin rolled his eyes, threw the cabin door open, and they both flinched. “Idiots! _We_ are pirates!”

Sousuke opened his mouth to retaliate, but Rin stormed past them both for the bow of the ship. He leaned on the railing, squinting into the dense fog. A dark shadow could have been anything at all—a land mass, a whale, a trick of the light. Sousuke stepped up beside him, holding out a spyglass, and Rin yanked it from his hand.

It wasn’t like his crew to say nothing at all, and Rin almost wished Aiichiro or Sousuke would fill the silence with their blathering. As he twisted the spyglass, he felt both dismay and relief. Relief that it wasn’t the royal fleet. Dismay at the dark flag hanging limply on its mast. From this distance, any other ship would still be hours away. They would have ample time to prepare. But if the rumors were true—

Sousuke interrupted his thought. “El Iwa-Moge,” he said.

“I can see that!” Rin snapped.

A small crowd had formed around them. He tasted the tension in the air; they stood shuffling their feet and wringing their hands, waiting for the command. At this rate, he would have preferred King Charles and the royal fleet to drag him home. They’d overtaken ships before, but not one with a captain rumored to steal ships in the blink of an eye, who had a deathly, deceiving beauty.

Rin turned around, and his crew all stood at attention at once. Their faces were lifted up toward him, their arms straight at their sides. “Prepare your weapons,” he said. “We will fight.”

 

 

“Dreamscape is in the distance. We’ll catch up easily.”

Makoto was still talking, though Haru had closed his eyes. It was convenient having a first mate whose talent bordered on telepathy, but it also meant that he knew the captain wasn’t asleep.

“Captain Matsuoka is rumored to have a lot of treasure, too,” Makoto continued. The floorboards creaked, with the gentle rocking of the ocean and Makoto’s pacing back and forth. “We can overtake him, and then—”

“The ship,” Haru interrupted. One eye slit open, a meager verification that he was conscious.

Makoto nodded. “It’s a very nice ship.”

The captain sat upright. On a table beside his wooden armchair was a pitcher of clear water and a half-full glass. He tipped the glass against his lips, the lukewarm water slipping between them, and he felt its journey from his throat and down to the pit of his stomach. _Dreamscape_ , he thought, staring at the bottom of his empty glass. _Stupid name for a ship_. Makoto coughed into a fist, a failed attempt to conceal his laughter.

 

 

Rin had no desire to look back at his crew. A pirate’s pride was in his crew, the men and women who fought boldly beside him and worshipped their captain. Rin stood at the bow, rapier in hand, and tried to ignore the shuffling whispering of the whelps behind him.

He massaged the bridge of his nose. He wondered how they’d even come this far together, if their nerves spiked every time an enemy approached.

“Men.”

Sousuke’s voice boomed, and there was a sudden hush. His first mate was brave enough to face them, even as Rin faced out toward the sea.

“Do not forget your position,” he said, forcing eye contact with each individual member of the crew. “We are up against El Iwa-Moge”—a hushed murmured arose—“and we will overtake them.”

Rin lifted his chin higher as the ship slid closer. A lone shadow could be seen on the bow, which slowly emerged into the form of a man. His face was still a foggy blur.

“I said,” Sousuke growled, “ _we will overtake them_.”

“Yeah!” Aiichiro was the first to offer a promising shout.

“Yeah!” echoed the others. “They’re no match for Captain Matsuoka!” “No one fights Dreamscape and lives to tell the tale!”

When the enemy came into view, Rin thought he didn’t look much like a pirate captain. He had the build for it, certainly—broad across the shoulders, visibly muscular even through the distance and fog. A green bandana was wrapped around his head, and wisps of hair fluttered around his ears.

“No,” Rin murmured, as his crew swelled around him. “That’s not him.”

Sousuke watched now as well, arms crossed, squinting into the fog. It took little time for him to fit the pieces into the known rumors. “Tachibana,” he muttered through his teeth.

The first mate; the translator. The one who spoke in the captain’s stead. The one seldom seen without him. The one who looked to be a pushover, but next thing you knew you were tied up in the bowels of your own ship.

The ship was within spitting distance before the man’s face could be seen. He _smiled_. It would have been a comforting smile, if Rin hadn't known better, a smile one trusted his darkest secrets with. He held no visible weapon. “Captain Matsuoka!” he shouted. “It’s nice to finally meet you!”

Rin gripped tighter to his sword.

“You have a really nice ship!” he went on. “My captain will like it!”

Tachibana’s crew materializing out of the fog. Four men were hoisting the gangplank, its great silver structure lifted up into the gray sky. Rin's laugh reverberated across the still waters, and there was a slight pause in their calculated movements. The gangplank shuttered as it was lowered across the expanse between them, then crashed onto Dreamscape's bow.

"Ha!" Rin grinned. “I’d like to see you try!”

Tachibana stepped aside, and El Iwa-Moge appeared as a mirage in the desert.

His features weren’t visible at first, not until he stepped up onto the gankplank. Even when he lifted his head, his tricorn hat cast a shadow over his eyes. Only his unsmiling mouth was visible. It was a small mouth, one unaccustomed to smiling, and a chin that tapered to a smooth, rounded point. Pretty, almost, a thought Rin pushed from head. He held a curved blade in one hand, which looked more suited to hang as an ornament than for combat.

El Iwa-Moge, feared by men and adored by women—or was it the other way around?—casually crossing the gangplank like he was paying a visit to a friend.

Sousuke lifted his blade, ready to defend, but Rin hadn’t yet moved.

“You’re just letting him _walk_?” Sousuke hissed. “He’s approaching the ship.”

“I can see that,” Rin muttered, as if he could focus on anything but the man’s graceful stride. He looked smaller as he approached, somehow; the jacket had obviously been taken in to fit him, pilfered from another captain. He was not the first owner of the knee-high boots, either, taken from a much taller man.

“El Iwa-Moge!” Rin called. “Thanks for the visit! But it’s getting late, and it’s almost time for my crew to be tucked into bed.”

The captain offered no indication that he’d heard. He stepped onto Dreamscape’s deck, and it was that moment that Rin realized the captain had crossed alone. His crew crowded around the bow, waiting. Even Tachibana remained in his original position, wearing that infuriating smile.

When El Iwa-Moge lifted his head to Rin, a flash of blue eyes sent his heart into his stomach. He swallowed hard. El Iwa-Moge slowly raised his sword, pointing it at the hollow of Rin’s throat. “You mean _my_ crew.”

The fog obstructed the rising moon; the night rapidly grew darker. Rin's thumb traced circles on his sword hilt, his mouth curling into a smirk. He met El Iwa-Moge's unflinching eyes. When the point of the sword inched closer to his throat, Rin leaped back and raised his weapon.

El Iwa-Moge’s crew stormed onto Dreamscape all at once. They moved silently, only the clang their steps across the gangplank, with Tachibana bringing up the rear. A battle cry rose from Rin's crew, brandishing their weapons in defense.

Captain Matsuoka and El Iwa-Moge circled each other. The man’s movements didn’t make sense—he appeared to move listlessly, almost lazily, but with a speed Rin couldn’t detect. When Rin went for an attack, their swords clashed before he even got close. When he rushed into an advance, El Iwa-Moge stepped aside with a yawn.

Rin gritted his teeth. None of his movements made sense—he couldn’t detect his next move, if there was a hint of movement at all. He matched each of Rin’s blows before Rin even landed them.

“You could always give up,” Rin said, aiming for his exposed clavicle. The short, curved blade stopped his attack, again. “Get back on your ship; go home.” Rin twisted away from the approaching sword point, narrowly escaping a blow to his shoulder. “Save yourself the embarrassment!”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Embarrassment?” Even in the shadow of the hat’s brim, the amusement sparkled in his eyes.

El Iwa-Moge spun around, catching Rin off-guard because he moved so slowly, like he danced beneath the water. His sword was lifted to the sky, slicing the dense fog, and came down fast.

Even as Rin twisted to dodge the blow, he knew he’d get hit—the tip of the blade caught his sleeve, though he couldn’t yet tell if it drew blood. _Damn long sleeves_ , he thought, feeling the cold jingle of his bracelet, too afraid to check his arm for injury. He held the arm horizontally, leveling his blade in line with Haru’s mouth—that indifferent, unsmiling mouth, that he would swear now twitched at the corner.

Rin took one step back to steady his balance. _“What?”_

El Iwa-Moge lowered his blade. He didn’t flinch as Rin’s sword moved incrementally closer to his skin, even as the cold metal rested on his jaw. He had the nerve to close his eyes, like he _enjoyed_ this moment closer to death, and Rin pressed the blade to his skin. A slight trickle of blood oozed from his cheek, dripping onto the steel of his rapier.

El Iwa-Moge smiled, and the commotion around them quieted.

It wasn’t much of a smile—a slight lift at the corner and, when he opened his eyes, a steely gaze that didn’t match. Rin disliked the bore of his gaze, as if the man could probe the depths of his memory. He thought of his parents; he thought of his sister. He thought of running away from home, and the Spanish conquistadors, and he thought of the men he’d killed to acquire his ship. He thought of El Iwa-Moge knowing all of it at that moment, and his head pounded. The pirate’s blood was on his blade. But the sharp gaze said that meant little.

Sousuke shouted his name a fraction too late. El Iwa-Moge disappeared in the moment he blinked, and Rin’s hand was emptied of his sword. An arm was around his waist, his own rapier at his throat, and a bodily warmth at his back that hadn’t been there seconds prior.

Tachibana slid in front of him. Rin would’ve have to look up to see his face, if he could move at all, but stood instead staring at his wide chest. “My captain is bored of your fight,” he said. “Show him where he sleeps.”

When Rin swallowed, his Adam’s apple grazed the cool metal. “On his own ship!” He wheezed when the arm around him tightened.

“Then I’m sorry, Captain Matsuoka.” In the moment Rin considered an escape plan, a rope tightened around his ankles and he crumpled to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've filled my quota of one permissible "Sousuke getting lost" joke. (But I couldn't resist.)


	2. Chapter 2

Dreamscape was a beautiful ship, but her captain’s quarters were terrible.

He'd found the medical supplies easily enough. While Captain Matsuoka had been knocked out, Haru raided his small trunk. There was a nice ointment from Europe, which he spread across his injured cheek. He considered the bandages, but the cut had healed decently enough that he didn't want to bother with it. He collapsed into the leather chair. The room contained little else but an oversized armchair, a side table, and a narrow bed, the latter of which currently occupied a sleeping captain.

It had been unplanned for Matsuoka to get knocked up when his crew tied him up, but it was useful now. He was still amused by how effortlessly he'd been draped over Makoto's shoulder, and how he'd lowered Dreamscape's captain into his bed like a child. He'd taken the time to settle in while Matsuoka slept, sifting through the few belongings in the trunk and rolling in a barrel of his own clean water to drink.

Matsuoka groaned. He tried to lift an arm, and was awaken at once, struggling against the bindings behind his back. He sat up with a wince, looked like he'd fall back over, but instead glared directly at Haru through his mussed and unruly fringe. But Haru feigned ignorance, pouring himself a glass of water instead. He liked Matsuoka's glasses more than the ones he'd owned before—they were neatly cut with a wavy pattern, which brought out the crystal clarity of the water. 

"Get out of my room," Matsuoka growled.

Haru tipped the glass back against his lips.

"Go back to your own ship."

The water cooled his mouth, slipping down his parched throat.

"Get off my ship!"

He set the empty glass on the side table.

"Where's Sousuke?"

Haru lifted his eyes. Loyalty to a first mate was something he couldn't refuse.

 "Alive," he replied. Apparently the answer wasn't suitable: he received a low growl in response. “My first mate is sharing our secret with him.”

“Secret?” Matsuoka had the audacity to laugh. “Good try. He won’t fall for your tricks.”

Haru cocked an eyebrow. He glanced at the wall behind him, which was vacant of a certain family photograph. There was a distinct square of clean wall where the dust hadn’t penetrated, a naked nail that had once supported a line of wire. Matsuoka glanced at the empty space, but made no comment on it.

Haru leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You’re searching for something. We’ve found it.”

 

 

The ship slightly lurched, and he waited for it to settle again before rising. Matsuoka's chest visibly rose and fell, the calming breaths of a man quick to temper. When Haru knelt on the bed, he straddled his lap like it was the most obvious place to perch. When Matsuoka swallowed, the gulp echoed in the small chamber. He glared, as if daring Haru to say something about it.

Haru's eyes roamed from Matsuoka’s crotch, up the hidden lines of his body beneath his jacket. When they locked eyes, there was a distinct blush on Matsuoka’s cheeks. “England paid me.”

Matsuoka’s steady gaze faltered. “E-England?”

Haru looked up. There was a high shelf over the bed that he hadn’t noticed before. He could only see its dark underside, but wondered what was stored on it. More family trinkets? Weapons? A journal? “You’re wanted home.”

Matsuoka gritted his teeth. Haru didn’t care much about the money; it was the king’s own foolishness for making a deal with a pirate. But it had been an interesting rumor: the king’s charge gone missing, the man slated as the next ruler of England. Luckily, he hadn’t been too secretive about his departure. Rin Matsuoka had been easy to track.

Matsuoka shifted, an attempt to sit up straighter. “This is my home,” he spat.

His arms trembled with pent-up rage, and a slow blush crawled up from his neck and into his cheeks. Haru leaned forward, chest to chest, unsure whose erratic heartbeat he felt. He slid his hands down Matsuoka's forearms, feeling the bulging muscles through his thick jacket. He slipped his fingers into the tight rope binding his hands, his cold hands on the hot rash that encircled his wrists.

"What the hell are you doing?" Matsuoka asked, his body rigid. Warm breath misted on Haru's skin as he slipped his hands up the sleeve of Matsuoka's jacket, groping for the concealed trinket. “H-Hey!”

Haru was up and off his lap before he could finish protesting, dangling the gold bracelet in front of his face. It was studded with rubies and diamonds, far too delicate for a pirate captain. Haru tilted his head, studying it.

Matsuoka followed the sway of the bracelet like a hypnotist. “Some pirate. Taking stupid jobs for the _king_.”

“Leverage.” Haru overshot the table when he tossed the bracelet onto it, and it slid to a silent heap on the floor.

Matsuoka snorted. “You mean blackmail.”

Haru settled back into the armchair, pulling up his feet to side cross-legged on the wide cushion. He didn’t see the point of answering.

 

 

El Iwa-Moge was too comfortable in his chair. He sat cross-legged like an Eastern god, his eyes closed like he, too, was weary of their conversation. He didn't know how much time had passed since their duel. He didn't know who manned his ship. He didn’t know where Sousuke was. He hadn’t heard anything in the time—hours?—he’d been captive in his own quarters.

El Iwa-Moge had partially undressed. The tricorn hat was on the floor, and his hair was sticking up from when he ran a hand through it. He’d discarded the greatcoat, too, and waistcoat, leaving him in white shirtsleeves and with trousers to match. His skin was uncommonly pale for one who lived on the sea. When he opened his eyes again, Matsuoka noticed for the first time just how wide and blue they were.

“I’m tired.” El Iwa-Moge whined like a spoiled child.

“You have a ship,” Rin said. “Go sleep on it.”

“You’re annoying. I already said this is my ship.”

“And _I_ said it’s _mine_!”

He stood up, stretching his arms overhead with a yawn. Rin didn’t turn away when El Iwa-Moge pulled his shirt off, shook it out, and lay it over the back of the armchair. His undershirt was nearly worn through, and a small hole visible at the collar. “Move over.”

“Wha— no!”

It was like Rin hadn’t spoken at all. The thin mattress sank beneath him, and the feared pirate captain was nudging him away with the soles of his feet.

He was stronger than he looked. Rin was shoved into the wall, his wrists and ankles rubbed sore from the friction of his bindings. “Geez. At least untie me! I can’t sleep like this.”

El Iwa-Moge was already curled into a ball, hugging Rin’s pillow. But he sighed, and sat up. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he untied the knots—his efficiency suggested the bindings hadn’t been as tight as originally thought, but the burn around Rin’s wrists and ankles suggested otherwise. He frowned, rubbing the feeling into his wrists as El Iwa-Moge curled back up on the bed.

“Don’t think about escaping,” he said. “I have a present for you.”

Rin grumbled as he flopped down to the mattress. He hoped the sudden movement jolted his unintended bedmate, and he hoped he silently seethed over it. Rin faced the wall, propping his head on his arm for lack of a pillow that he couldn’t be bothered stealing back. He rubbed his ankles together, which only made the pain worse; he tried to lie still, but his fingers flexed automatically as the blood flowed back into them.

El Iwa-Moge set a hand on his hip.

Rin couldn’t stop him from sliding closer, if he wanted to. It was a strange form of captivity, being locked in the captain’s arm rather than ropes or chains. The arm snaked across his torso, and his weight pressed to Rin’s back. His light breathing warmed the back of his neck.

He closed his eyes, willing him away, ignoring the heat of human contact. “I don’t want whatever weird present you have for me,” Rin said.

A silent chuckle vibrated against his spine. “Yes you do.”

 

 

If not for the missing pillow, Rin would’ve considered the previous night hadn’t happened. He woke groggy, turning from the wall to stare at his vacated quarters. Everything seemed to be in place—chair, table, ancient map—save the framed family portrait, and the pillow that was not propping up his head.

He winced as he sat up. He rubbed his wrists, which were chewed raw with rope burn. He didn’t want to check the state of his ankles, nor pull on boots to amplify the burn of his injuries. Instead he knelt on the floor and felt around beneath the side table. Any glint of gold should be clearly visible in the shadows, but he saw nothing. As much as his wrist pained him, he wanted to wear that stupid bracelet. He wanted to press the pad of his thumb into its naked setting; he wanted that one last connection to his former land.

He rose, brushed off his knees, and padded onto deck barefoot.

Business seemed as usual, besides the considerable crowd of two crews on one ship. The sky was still overcast, with no sense of the hour. He scanned the immediate area for any of his senior crew—Sousuke was hard to miss, at least—and frowned when none were immediately spotted.

“Captain Matsuoka!”

Rin jumped, biting back a yelp, as Tachibana appeared beside him.

“You shouldn’t be out of the captain’s quarters! I have clear instruction to make sure you don’t go anywhere.”

He cast a wary eye at El Iwa-Moge’s first mate. If they’d encountered on land, he’d think the man a pushover. Too nice for his own good. Easily bent to his will. He took a step away from him. “I wasn’t told.”

“Forgive me,” Tachibana said. “El Iwa-Moge doesn’t express orders like other captains. You’ll learn how to read him soon.”

“I don’t want to read him!” Rin clenched his hands into fists, resisting punching the guy in his stupid, smiling face. “I want you off my ship!”

“It’s fine.” The cool, unassuming voice spoke from behind him, perched overhead on the quarterdeck. “Rin, come up here.” When he didn’t move, he said, “Makoto, bring him.”

“I’ll walk myself!” Rin cried, when Tachibana moved to hoist him over his shoulder.

Any other day, he’d have enjoyed the view from the quarterdeck—it sat elevated over the deck, and he could see all of the ship’s workings. From up high, he could see some familiar faces in the crew. His men, at least, hadn’t been tossed into the sea, though they moved slower than usual and were prodded by the faces Rin didn’t recognize. He spied Aiichiro tangled in the rigging, and felt relief for the first time since waking.

“I didn’t permit you to use my name,” Rin said, after they’d stood in silence for longer than was comfortable.

“But we’ve shared a bed.” Rin resisting throwing a punch for the second time that day. “You can call me Haru.”

He snorted. “Such a _pretty_ name for such a _feared_ pirate.”

Haru narrowed his eyes. “You too.”

Rin ignored him. “Where’s my first mate?”

It was impossible that he hadn’t been heard, despite the lack of response. El Iwa-Moge— _Haru_ —stared out over the crew, hands in his jacket pockets, pursing his lips like he had to consider the answer. “With your present,” he finally replied.

“I swear to Poseidon, if you killed him, I—”

“I didn’t kill him.” He was short, clipped, openly offended. Rin almost felt guilty.

“You are still on my ship,” he said slowly, “and you will show me the basic courtesy of proving that my most trusted man is not dead at the bottom of the sea.”

Haru stepped down off the quarterdeck. Rin recalled the first basic rule of the captain— _he doesn’t express orders_ , Tachibana had said. Rin would have to guess at his silent actions, and with Haru moving toward the door leading below decks, there was one obvious answer where he was going and to where Rin would follow.

He didn’t often venture into the storeroom; he had underlings for that. At least the space was clean, but it was dark. Little light penetrated the scattered skylights. They maneuvered around crates and barrels of provisions, which would have been fine enough if Rin wasn’t playing prisoner on his own vessel. Rin muttered under his breath, which brought more than one glance over Haru's shoulder, but all muttering ceased when they rounded the corner.

The sight of Sousuke was a relief, but he wasn’t the reason for Rin’s sudden barrage of tears—standing beside him, bright as the sun at high noon, was his sister.

_“Gou?”_

She beamed, her long, red hair flouncing as he vaulted toward him. “Brother!”

Her hug was a little tighter, her muscles more defined. He slowly, carefully, hugged her back, ensuring she felt exactly the same, that no limb was maimed nor hair out of place. He swallowed his tears, stroking her hair, tangling it in his fingers.

“It’s okay, brother!” She laughed and squeezed him tighter. “Haru took care of me!” From the corner of his eye he caught both Haru and Sousuke turning away.

Rin pulled back suddenly and wrapped one protective arm around her shoulders, holding so tight that she squirmed. He pointed an accusing finger at Haru. “ _She_ called you Haru!” If you dared—”

“We didn’t have sex,” Haru deadpanned.

The force of Gou’s shove threw him off-balance. “Brother!”

“She’s fine,” Sousuke added. He’d leaned into the corner of the wall, hands in his pockets, seemingly indifferent. Gou held tight around Rin’s waist, silent tears leaking onto his shoulder.

Haru’s stance exuded indifference, but his eyes gave him away—they didn’t focus on any one thing, shifting back and forth on nothing in the semi-dark, unwilling to pay too much attention to the touching reunion.

Rin hugged his sister with both arms again, nearly suffocating her against his chest. “What now?” he asked. “A ship for my sister? Take it.”

Haru’s discomfort was immediately vanquished. “No. You’ll work for me.”

 

 

There were few immediate options: Either Rin toil as a slave, or throw himself into the sea. The latter was improbable now, and there were worse fates than working beside his sister.

“They tried to make me the cook,” Gou said, “but no one ate my gruel. I work better on deck, anyway!”

It had been an age since Rin had tarred ropes or unfurled the sails. He found he enjoyed being up in the masts again, hanging on as the ship— _his_ ship—underwent preparations for the imminent storm. He worked during the day, swabbing the decks with Aiichiro or shooting the breeze with Gou. He hid from Tachibana, fearing that unsettling smile, and helped Sousuke figure out the proper way to navigate. But Haru was always at his peripheral vision, even when they were on opposite ends of the ship. He felt his eyes on him and his weight at his back, and his ears were constantly ringing with what must have been his thoughts. He was physically exhausted come nightfall. Haru kept him on first watch, working while the sun was up and reposing with him after the evening meal.

Gou thought it was weird.

“Why are you still in the _captain’s_ quarters?” she asked.

“Because I’m captain!”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you’re not.”

"Anyway," Rin said, “How’d you get tied up with _him_?”

It was a tale typical of Gou: Following their parents’ murder, Gou had been kidnapped by the Spanish conquistadors. Rin swallowed his guilt; he’d been in hiding during the raid, with the image of his parents' blood imprinted in his memory. It wasn't until the ship had left that he'd learned his little sister was gone, if she were even still alive. But it hadn’t been the end of Gou—she’d fought back when they’d tried to touch her, secluding herself on their overly gaudy ship until she found an escape plan.

“And you picked _El Iwa-Moge_?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Gou smirked. “I stowed away on his ship when he was fighting the conquistadors.”

He paused, leaning on the broom handle. “And you didn’t sleep with him?”

Gou backhanded his arm, the slap ricocheting off the still waters. “Eww!”

But his nights were... _weird_. He couldn’t be certain whether the nights were growing colder, or if he was already accustomed to shared bodily warmth. He and Haru dressed for bed with their backs to each other, and Haru blocked the door if he'd try to leave. Rin always slept near the wall, with Haru’s arm and leg locked around him in a bizarre sort of prison. Haru was a sound sleeper, at least. Rin stared at the planks of the wall, with Haru suctioned around him like barnacle. He closed his eyes, not out of weariness, but exasperation.

He whined when Haru dreamed, for the leg around him squeezed tighter, and his groin rubbed hard on Rin’s backside. He couldn’t help his own reaction, tempted to take care of it himself, with Haru’s breath on his neck and his hand splayed on his chest. Rin groaned and pressed his face into the mattress instead, which did little but constrict his breathing.

More and more he retired to bed not unwillingly, wondering what—or if—the great pirate captain would say, or do. Rin tested him. He’d go to sleep in only his undershorts, or he’d outwardly stare while Haru undressed, but Haru remained silent. Beneath the jackets and vests, El Iwa-Moge was almost _pretty_. His bare chest was pale with a layer of fine, dark hair. When he removed his trousers Rin couldn’t resist glancing downward, to the trail of hair that disappeared beneath the band of his undershorts.

Rin propped his arms behind his head. “The mysterious El Iwa-Moge,” he said. “Feared by men and adored by women.”

Haru side-eyed him. “It’s the other way around.”

Rin watched him cross the small room. He watched him sit on the bed, angled toward him, his eyes falling down to Rin’s bare chest. He’d been fit enough before, but was pleased now with his harder muscles from manual labor under El Iwa-Moge’s reign. When Haru lay a hand flat on his chest, Rin didn’t move. He had half a mind to push him away, but his heart only pounded harder. He sucked in a breath when Haru pressed a kiss to the dip between his pectorals.

It didn’t have to make sense or, rather, it was the only thing that did. Captives on the same ship, regardless of who had imprisoned whom. Rin worked his fingers through Haru’s hair, which was matted with salt and sweat. He allowed the feared captain to lie down over him, rather than beside.

Haru’s thigh pressed up between his legs, massaging the growing swell as his lips explored Rin’s chest. His tongue swept up his pectorals, then traced the side of his throat and his jaw. Rin groaned when teeth lightly scraped his earlobe, and arched back when the damp of Haru’s tongue slipped into his ear.

“You don’t mess around,” Rin murmured, throwing a leg around Haru’s waist. Haru grinded against him, groin pressing hard to Rin’s thigh.

Rin was melting too easily beneath him, his retaliation weak. His heart raced and his palms sweated on Haru’s back. He tilted his head back, guiding Haru’s mouth to his throat, biting back a moan when he sucked at his pulse point.

“Kiss me already,” Rin murmured, panting open-mouthed as Haru slid upward. He chewed his lower lip, staring at Rin’s mouth, before his eyes fluttered closed and their lips met.

The wooden bed creaked beneath them, rocking with the swell of the sea. The air was charged with electricity, and outside their walls the ocean roiled. They untangled their lips and looked up simultaneously, staring at the shadowed ceiling of their quarters.

“Storm,” Haru said, as thunder groaned in the distance.

“Mmm.” Rin kissed the point of his chin.

Haru’s touch was light, like the spray of an ocean breeze, or the sprinkle of the water. Rin shivered when his hair was pushed back from his face, exposed to the unexpected gentleness in Haru's eyes.

Rin nodded, and Haru slipped out of his undershorts.

It was near impossible to differentiate between Haru’s soft moans and the cry of the sea, harmonious in tone, composed of the same key. Rin’s hands slipped down to Haru’s backside, warm and smooth, swelling slightly like the ocean itself. Rin lifted his hips as Haru pushed down his undershorts, gasping when his skin was exposed to the clammy air, and when Haru lowered his nakedness down onto him again.

Footsteps pounded out on deck, pirates battening down the hatches and taking in the sails. Deep voices rang out over the others, issuing commands as the wind picked up speed. The captain’s quarters were weather-proof, waterproof, and bolted shut from the outside.

Rin sucked on Haru’s mouth and tongue as Haru’s hand roamed, massaging between his legs and reaching behind. He winced when Haru slipped a finger inside.

“Give a guy some warning!” he cried, and Haru froze. “Don’t just _stop_! Jeez!”

It hurt like hell at first, feeling every twitch of Haru’s fingers magnified by the increasingly unsteady waves. Haru kissed his closed eyelids and his forehead, and he kissed his mouth and his chin. “We need lubricant,” he muttered.

“No shit!” Rin’s nails gouged into the soft flesh of Haru’s back. “Top shelf.” He let out a breath when Haru pulled out.

“You should’ve said something sooner.”

Rin looked away. “Just get it, all right?”

Haru sat up, paused, considering. It didn’t take any magical telepathic voodoo to tell he was unaccustomed to taking orders, debating whether or not to follow. Rin failed to hold back a smirk, but Haru tore away to grope around on the shelf above them.

“Lotion?” If not for the increasingly violent storm, Rin would’ve sworn Haru laughed as he read the bottle’s label.

“Shut up.” Rin massaged Haru’s thigh, his thumb narrowly avoiding his groin. “It works.”

More shouting from outside, and a flash of lightning that penetrated the dark quarters. Haru kissed him again, tongue filling his mouth, lotion-slick fingers easing inside him. Haru kissed the side of his face, his ear. “Breathe,” he whispered, as the rain surged forth all at once. It echoed off the quarterdeck above, and a crack of thunder masked Rin’s squelch of discomfort. “Hold onto me.” Rin clawed at his back, willing his body to comply, soothed by the heavy rainfall and Haru’s soft breath on his ear.

“Okay.” The word caught in Rin’s throat. “Okay.”

El Iwa-Moge, infamous pirate of the seas, feared by men and women around the world.

Feared.

 _Adored_.

Gentle, cautious; Rin felt him watching even as he closed his eyes. He placed a hand over Rin’s chest, urging his calm into his heart, willing his body to conform to him.

Haru needn’t have moved at all, not with the furious slamming of the storm, the vessel rocking madly from starboard to port, bow to stern. The ship moved around them, pushing them closer, charging their kisses.

“Not out there with your crew?” Rin breathed, nails scraping the backs of Haru’s thighs.

“Same to you,” Haru murmured. He kissed Rin’s ear, pushed in deeper. The rain echoed like a waterfall, spilling onto the deck.

“The sea is dangerous.” Rin clenched a leg tighter around Haru’s waist. “This could be our last night.”

Haru matched his erratic rhythm to the lurch of the ship. “Fine.”


	3. Chapter 3

Haru had returned the bracelet. At least, that’s what Rin assumed—he awoke to it sitting on the table beside the water carafe, like it had always been there, neatly coiled in itself. Rin took his time dressing, trying to ignore the flash of gold, though staring at the vacated bed wasn’t much better.

He spun around when the door opened, but it was only Haru.

He entered slowly, almost cautiously, and a now-familiar shudder ripped up Rin’s spine. His arms were crossed around a dusty frame. The photograph faced inward, but there was only one thing it could be. “I gave it to Gou,” he said, as way of explanation. “So she would know.”

Rin nodded. He palmed the bracelet. A child’s bracelet, he saw now; a trinket for a future king, intended to make a spoiled prince happy. He extended it toward Haru, as far away from his person as possible.

Haru hesitated, then held out his hand. The gold pooled into palm like water.

“None of this makes sense,” Rin said. He fell back onto the armchair, then poured himself a glass of water. Haru said nothing about his touching the carafe, and he drank it naturally like it was his own. “You protected my sister. You took over my ship.” He waved a flippant hand around the room. “I’m _still here_. What the hell, Haru? What’s your deal?”

Haru pocketed the bracelet. He turned to the wall. He stared at the vacant nail, like there could be anything else to hang upon it. “I have family, too.” He studied the rear of the frame, and the wire that supported its weight, and then carefully balanced it back on the nail. He straightened the frame, then straightened it again, ensuring it was lined up in the exact same position as before. “Yours is blood.”

Rin gripped the arms of the chair, the water glass abandoned on the side table. Haru put his hands into his pockets. “Makoto is all I have left,” he said. “We’re bound by water, not blood. But if he weren’t here...” He averted his eyes. “I don’t break up families. It’s the only thing some people have.”

Rin stared at the floor, his hair long over his face. He saw only Haru’s feet, and their slow advance, and didn’t move even when Haru stroked his hair. Fingers twined in his locks, gently tugging to urge Rin to look up.

“You avenged our parents for us,” Rin whispered, peering up through his fringe.

Haru hesitated, then reached into his pocket. He stood between Rin’s open knees, holding his hand out level between them. He uncurled his fist to present the bracelet like an offering.

When Rin rose to standing, it was like he’d never walked upon a ship; his legs trembled, and he felt every lurch of the sea beneath them. He covered Haru’s hand with his own—it was smaller, he saw now—with the bracelet trapped between them. He was aware of the constant rumble of footsteps on deck outside, and the steady pulse of blood through Haru’s hand.

“You didn’t even know me.” Rin’s fingers wrapped around Haru’s wrist.

“I knew Gou.”

Rin averted his eyes. Haru grasped to him now, too, the only thing keeping him upright. He though his own grip would cut off Haru’s circulation.

“We weren’t intimate.” Rin’s grip let up slightly. “Makoto and I trusted her.” Rin stared at the family portrait. His parents, so happy, and their blissfully ignorant children. “She was looking for her family.”

“She avenged them before I could.”

Haru twisted his hand around, the bracelet slipping from their joined fingers as they clasped hands. Haru’s slim fingers easily slid between his own. “Are you surprised?”

“No.” Rin’s mouth quirked into a smile. “But you could’ve left.”

“Makoto told you.” Haru tugged at his hand. “I like this ship.”

Haru’s lips were chapped, but they tasted sweet. One hand trailed up his back, gently pulling them together, bodies flush in the intimacy of the captain’s quarters. Rin was unsteady on his feet, though it had nothing to do with the ship itself.

When Haru broke away, Rin kissed him again. And he kissed him again, drunk on the fiery shock of their kisses, a small spark each time their lips touched. When he’d awoken, the previous night had seemed impossible. Now, Haru claiming his tiny bed was the only possibility.

“You’ll stay,” Rin whispered, and kissed him again.

Haru returned each of his kisses. “Yes.”

“I will, too?”

Haru hesitated. “Fine.”

Rin crouched then, easily locating the gold bracelet at their feet. He kissed Haru’s knee, his thigh, his body as he rose to standing. He met his lips at the top. “Come with me.”

Haru frowned, but complied. They ventured out into the sunlight, squinting as their eyes adjusted to the new brightness of the world. The deck was storm-ragged but the new, enlarged crew was scurrying about for clean-up. The main sail had been torn, but Makoto and Aiichiro were up there patching it. Sousuke was doing a job on a length of rope, neatly fitting it back into its coil. Countless sailors were sweeping water off the deck, which still sat in puddles despite the burning sun.

Rin stepped up onto the quarterdeck, then leaned on the rail to look down at the sea. Haru grasped the railing beside him, looking nothing like a feared pirate captain. He leaned so far over the rail that Rin feared he’d fall overboard, or at least lose his hat. But the hat remained, and so did Haru, and he looked upon the sea with the wonder of a child who had never seen it.

Rin stared at the bracelet, at the line of gemstones and the one empty socket. Its prongs were bent inward, nary a space for the missing ruby any longer. “Where do your loyalties lie, Captain?” Rin asked.

Haru was still watching the sea. “The water.”

He rolled his eyes. “After that. You’re not turnin’ me in, right?”

Haru adjusted his hat and filled his lungs with the ocean air. He looked from Rin, to the bracelet, and back over the water. “If you’re not annoying.”

Rin chuckled. “Can’t promise that.”

Haru looked away, but took a step closer. His hand felt cool on Rin’s, brushing his wrist before sliding down between his fingers. Haru watched the bustle on deck, but Rin watched the bracelet as he dangled it over the sea.

He wanted to close his eyes but forced himself to watch as he spread his fingers, the bracelet sinking over the edge of the ship, disappearing into the murky blue below. They both peered over the edge, but it had already been swept away by the churning waves.

Rin lifted his face to the sky. He’d always loved the air after a storm, how it felt cooler and cleaner, like a rebirth. “What now?”

Haru released his hand. “Now you go back to work.”

Rin laughed but Haru had turned away, descending back down to the deck. “Haru? Oi!” He disappeared into the captain’s quarters and Rin sighed, leaning back on the railing. He stroked the fine wooden rail, grinning as he admired his crew. He spied Gou in the crow's nest, her hair a wild mess in the whipping wind. He found Sousuke and Makoto at the bow with a map spread out between them. He saw a flash of Aiichiro as he rolled a barrel across the deck. Rin tossed his head back, the warm breeze ruffling his hair.

The door to the captain’s quarters creaked and Haru poked his head out. “Get to work.”

Rin threw his arms up. “No respect for the captain!” He pounded his feet as he descended to the deck. “Can’t even take a break on my own ship!”

“My ship.” Haru slammed the door.

Rin looked out at the men and women of his crew, decided they worked well enough without his help, and slipped down into the captain’s quarters.


End file.
